


Make Them Clean

by Jay_Bird23



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Eventual Found Family, I don't know what to say here, I suck at titles, In which Stephen Strange eventually ends up accidentally adopting a "Child", No spoilers for anything else, Not too long after, Original Nonbinary Character - Freeform, takes place after the movie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-03 10:33:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14567115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_Bird23/pseuds/Jay_Bird23
Summary: Since Marvel left a plotline open, I'm working it.Mordo took a vow to rid the world of magic, a plan he continues to follow through on as time goes on. Since Stephen is the new Sorcerer Supreme, he takes it as his duty to act on it when no one else seems to. A plan which happens to include teaching a snarky urban explorer how to tap into their magic potential.This story includes original characters





	1. First Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> My brain decided to latch onto Doctor Strange, so here we are!

The wizards in this world will be stopped.

That’s the vow Mordo took after swearing off the Sanctum and stealing Jonathan Pangborn’s magic energy. Magic has become a plague, spreading across the globe from the dark dimension they took a vow to fend off. They don’t know what they do though, so it’s Mordo’s job to purge them of it. To cleanse their souls and rid the world entirely of the impure magic. There are too many wizards in this world. Mordo plans on thinning the herd.

His newest target, the one he watches from the back of the convenience store she works at, already knows he’s there. She has to after all, he’s the only one with magical energy besides her in the store. However, customer service rules still seem to apply in life threatening situations. So she smiles and assists the young woman in front of her, trying to hide the bead of sweat forming at her temple. Mordo simply stares, watching her discomfort grow as time goes on and ignoring the curious looks the other passersby give him. She’ll eventually excuse herself to talk to him alone and then he’ll strike.

At least, that was the plan before the security guard approached.

“Excuse me, sir,” the guard says, hand already placed defensively on his nightstick as a warning. “Is there something we can help you with?”

Mordo says nothing, shifting his icy gaze to the guard without a word.

“Sir?” the guard says again, forcing more authority in his tone and causing others to stop and watch. “If you’re not going to buy anything, I’m going to have to ask you to-”

There’s no end of the sentence before Mordo raises a hand, a wall of magical energy forming at the gesture and sending the guard flying into the stack of fruit a few yards away. An array of shocked gasps wash over the crowd and a few people even scream, cell phone cameras now directed at him as if they were the press. Mordo’s hand rises again and a glowing, orange dagger appears in his hand, causing more screams to echo out before a few less than brave souls scatter into the distance.

“There are too many wizards in this world,” he says, more to himself than anything, as he slowly starts his approach of his target. She understandably startles for a moment before forming two almost stable shields of energy to her hands. “Too many wizards.”

 

######

 

“This is the fourth attack this month, Wong,” Strange defends for the seventh time since the argument started. “They got her at her job this time! People were hurt! I’m the new sorcerer supreme, I need to-”

“You’re job is to keep the New York Sanctum safe,” Wong reminds for the eighth time. “I understand your concerns, I have my own. But until something happens in New York-"

“Jonathan Pangborn was attacked,” Stephen interjects angrily. “That was in New York! Whoever this is, whatever they want, they’re attacking anyone who uses magic. There aren’t that many people in New York beside you and me now.”

“Then talk with the other Sanctums around the world,” Wong counters. “We can’t leave our Sanctum completely unguarded if there is someone going after magic.”

Stephen falls quiet and even his angry thoughts knows Wong is right. Since someone is targeting magic users, leaving the Sanctum unprotected could prove to be devastating. A heavy breath of defeat pushes from his core and he pushes his simmer anger to the back of his mind. “Fine,” he relents tiredly. “Can we at least leave for dinner?”

Wong releases his own huff of relief and nods lazily. “I could go for some pizza,” he says. “No olives this time.”

A quick roll of the eyes comes as the response and Stephen waves a hand, his normal clothes appearing in place of his robe and cloak. “We’re going out,” he announces, “you can order what you want.”

“I don’t have any money.”

Stephen rolls his eyes again and he makes his way toward the front door. “You owe me,” he grumbles as he listens to Wong follow him down the grand staircase and down the hall. “Again.”

 

#####

 

Another round of howling laughter breaks from the group at the table and Reagan takes a lazy bow, a tipsy, lopsided grin playing on their lips as they lower themselves back to their seat. “You got my bill now, right Dean?” they ask, the sarcastic tone they use suggesting they already know the answer.

The one called Dean, a woman with blonde hair and brown eyes in a blue sundress, scoffs loudly and slams an open palm on the table angrily. “That was a bullshit call and you know it!” she shouts in a mock angry voice. “I shouldn’t have to pay for your bullshit!"

Reagan shrugs and a few drunken giggle slip out. “You shouldn’t have made the bet if you couldn’t pay up,” they tease lightly. “So pay up and we can go.”

This sparks another round of laughter from the table as Dean frowns and shoves an angry hand in her purse, withdrawing a bright pink wallet and practically storming to the counter up front. “She’s going to hate you when she gets back,” another man with black hair and brown eyes dressed in gray shorts and a blue tank top says through a similar drunken giggle. “You better watch out.”

Reagan smiles lazily again and rolls their eyes, grabbing their beer from the table and taking a deep drink. “I’m not scared of Dean,” they hum. “Anyway, what’s the plan tonight?”

The man, Andy, sobers up quickly and grins brightly. “We found a good spot for tonight.” he answers happily. “Really old museum or something. Hasn’t seen a lick of activity in years. Lenny says he’s peeked inside a few times and it’s definitely not being used anymore. They even left a lot of the stuff in there. Our blog is going to go viral because of this.”

 “I don’t care about the internet,” Reagan huffs. “But the stuff seems cool.”

“Right!”

Dean returns and flops on her chair, throwing an excited arm over Reagan’s shoulders and dragging them in. “Did Andy fill you in on the plan?” she asks. “We’re going to be-”

Reagan rolls their eyes and smiles fondly, wrapping an arm around Dean’s waist for a half side hug. “Yeah, yeah,” they respond monotonously. “Am I the only one in this thing for the adventure?”

Dean and Andy share a lopsided smile before they look back at Reagan. “Yeah,” they say simultaneously.

Yet another roll of the eyes from Reagan and they laugh lightly. “I hate you,” they grumble. I hate you both.”

 

#####

 

“Whoa,” Dean gapes as the trio approach the target building. “Where did Lenny find this place?”

Andy shakes his head as Reagan smiles brightly and withdraws a camcorder from their sweatpants pocket and starts recording. “I don’t know,” Andy admits. “He says he’s had his eyes on it for a while, but had to make sure it was clear.”

Reagan raises an eyebrow at the statement as they zoom in on the windows of the building in front of them. “What dies that mean?” they ask. “It looks empty.”

“Lenny said he’s seen some movement in there before,” Andy explains. “But it’s been still for the past few days so he thinks we’ll be fine.”

The skepticism on Reagan’s face deepens slightly as they zoom in on the symbol formed in a large, round window close to the roof of the building. “What does that mean?” they say, lifting a hand to motion to the symbol. “On the window?”

Reagan turns the camera to Dean and Andy as they study the roof, both of them wearing similar looks of confusion before turning to Reagan. “That’s weird.” Andy mumbles, glancing back and forth between Reagan and the building. “I don’t know.”

Before Reagan can respond, Dean glances behind them and tenses slightly. “Come on,” she mumbles, nudging Reagan’s arm to lower the camera. “Let’s get inside. Where’d Lenny say the best point of entry was?”

The trio make their way across the street and cut to the back of the building, everyone keeping a cautious eye out as Reagan shoots more video as they walk. They make it to the back and peer in through the windows, pushing aside overgrown vines and leaves that impede their view, Reagan shoves the camera lens between their eye and the window. Unsurprisingly, they’re meet with deep darkness and a few window-bound cobwebs. Reagan frowns at the unbreakable black and pulls their eye away, switching the camera to night view and pressing their eye back.

“Whoa,” they exclaim quietly as the green tinted glass cases become visible against the dark. “Guys. We have to get in here, ASAP.”

“Dean’s working on it,” Andy announces, alerting Reagan to the fact that Dean started picking the lock while they were looking over the artifacts. “And I think she’s. . .”

There’s a soft click and Dean smiles victoriously as the door creaks open slightly on a hinge. “Got it.”

Reagan allows a smile to spread on their face as they pull the lens away from the window and follow their friends inside. “This place is huge,” Andy whispers as Reagan roves the camera over the vast area and the contents inside the ase. “We should split up.”

“Said the white person in every horror movie. . .” Reagan mumbles, earning a chuckle from Dean as they zoom in on a few of the cases they look at. “But fine. Holla if you need anything.”

“Agreed.”

Dean scoffs as she turns and walks toward the hallway. “As if I’d need you guys if I was in trouble,” she teases. “Reagan would just try to talk the guy away.”

Reagan rolls their eyes as they head toward the staircase. “Waow,” they mumble as they begin their ascent. “Thanks. . .”

“Don’t vine talk me.”

 

#####

 

Stephen pauses halfway through his bite of pizza and frowns, having felt the interference in the barrier of the Sanctum falter not a full minute ago. Of course it could just be the anxiety he feels at the present threat targeting the magical world, but he definitely knows something is up. The fact that it’s at his home also adds to his shot nerves.

“Someone is inside the Sanctum,” Wong says, obviously having felt the same disturbance to the barrier that Stephen felt. “We should go.”

An agreeing hum is half the response Stephen gives as he finishes his bite and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “We should,” he says, “after we get to-go boxes.”

 

#####

 

  
“This shit is wild,” Reagan says as they pass a wall mounted battle axe, making sure to zoom in on the details engraved in the metal. “This has to be super old. .  .” 

Their attention is drawn away from the axe to the window it frames, a slight awe forming on their face at the symbol made in the stained glass. The same one they saw outside in a different window. “What the hell is that?” they mumble, zooming out to get the entire symbol in the frame. “Lord, if I get cursed by this thing. . .”

“You won’t get cursed looking at the window.”

Reagan shouts in surprise at the sudden voice and whirls around, aiming their camera at the man that now stands a few feet behind them. A dark haired man wearing a blue robe and a red cape that blows in a non-existent breeze. “I, on the other hand, might,” the man continues as Reagan scrambles as far away from the new man as possible. It’s not too far since they were standing near the wall in the first place but still. “What are you doing in my house?”

Their words catch in their throat with the shock and it takes Reagan a few seconds to find their ability to speak again. “I didn’t know,” they squeak out. “It looked abandoned and dusty. . . I-”

“Can you put the camera down,” the man says, motioning to said camera with a dismissive wave of the hand, “it’s making me uncomfortable.”

“With respect, sir,” Reagan starts, “but I’m also uncomfortable. . .so I think I’m just going to keep recording. In case I get killed or something, you know?”

The man rolls his eyes and huffs tiredly. “I’m not going to kill you,” he assures in annoyance. “I am still curious about why you’re in my house. . ."

“I’m an urban explorer,” they answer quickly. “We, my friends and I, have a video blog and we find places that look abandoned - like this place does - and we go in and look around.”

A sarcastically curious hum rolls from the man’s core and he nods slowly a few times as if letting the thought roll around in his mind. “And people actually watch this?”

“Yea,” Reagan says, nodding rapidly to enforce their point. “We got pretty popular when we found a Satanic ritual site.” The confusion turns to shock on the man’s face and Reagan shakes their head. “It wasn’t in use!” they clarify. “But it had been recently. Their fire pit was still warm.”

“So you and your friends are insane?” he guesses lazily. “That’s the only thing I’m hearing right now.”

Reagan shakes their head rapidly again. “I don’t think we are,” they defend. “We just like adventuring.”

“By breaking and entering and sticking your hands in used ritual sites?”

“We normally hit completely empty places. This is the first time we’ve been caught. . .”

“I see,” the man hums thoughtfully. “So, since this is your first time getting caught, and you don’t particularly look like a thief, I’m going to let you go.”

Reagan’s eyes widen in disbelief and they almost drop the camera in their shock. “Really?”

The man hums and nods with impatiently pursed lips. “So you and your friends. . .can get out.”

And Reagan is out of the house, standing on the front door steps between and equally confused Dean and Andy. The trio blink for a few moments to try and piece together how they ended up on the outside of the building, but nothing seems to come up. Well, almost nothing. Reagan flexes their tingling fingers and horror flashes on their face.

“My camera!”

  
#####

 

“Are you sure it was ok to just let them go like that?” Wong asks, peering out the uppermost window above the door and watching the young adults converse excitedly outside. “They might tell someone.”

“Who’s going to believe a bunch of kids with no proof?” Strange asks, waving the stolen camera in the air to prove his point. “Everything they saw tonight is still here. We’ll be fine.”

Wong runs the scenario through his mind a few times before nodding in satisfaction. “You’re right,” he admits. “You felt the-”

“Magic energy off the one with the camera?” Stephen finishes. “Yeah, I did. I don’t know who that kid was, but that was a lot of untapped energy.”

“It’s only a matter of time before Mordo finds out,” Wong points out. “He’s going for anyone with any connections to magic.”

“I know,” Strange says. “Which means that kid is basically a walking target. . . Unless we can sharpen the edge. . .”

Wong pauses before turning fully to face the Sorcerer Supreme beside him. “You better not be thinking of what I think you’re thinking of. . .”

  
A nearly charming Cheshire grin pastes itself on Stephen’s face as he pointedly avoids looking at Wong. Instead, he watches the youths gesture angrily at the building, the one he confronted - the one with the magical potential - even goes as far as kicking the door they all stand in front of. “It’s funny you say that,” he starts as the trio finally start to leave, “because I know I am. . .”


	2. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen and Reagan have a talk about the future

Needless to say, Reagan took the liberty of sleeping in the next day, emotionally devastated about the appearance of the strange man and the subsequent loss of their camera. That camera was their pride and joy, so having it stolen so easily isn’t the nicest feeling. Yeah, it wasn’t the best camera on the market, but it was the best to them. And now it’s gone and they’re not exactly planning on going back to the museum again. A terrible loss that’ll come outta Dean and Andy’s paycheck. 

So Reagan sleeps until about twelve in the afternoon until they are pulled from their sleep by an instant knocking coming from their left. That fact alone is enough to cause Reagan to freeze in fearful thought. The way that they have their room is situated, the only thing to the left of the bed is a window. An especially frightening thought considering they live on the sixth floor. The knocking doesn’t stop so Reagan cautiously lifts their head and looks toward the window. 

A lone, red cloak floats in front of the window, one of its corners raised as if it were prepare to knock again. The raised corner waves welcomingly, and it Reagan counts it as sleep deprivation when they lift a hand and wave in return. The cloak then uses the corner to motion to the window latch as if wanting them to open it, a motion that is quickly met with a rapid shake of the head. Sentient cloaks are not something Reagan wants in their house. The cloak folds its corners as if crossing its arms, then motions to the latch again. Reagan shakes their head again, then proceeds to roll over, lie back down, and pull the blanket back over their head. The cloak knocks on the window again. And again. And again.

Reagan throws the blanket off their head in annoyance and looks directly at the cloak. “Listen, I’m sorry, but I’m not letting you in,” they exclaim tiredly, then proceed to feel silly for talking to an article of clothing. “I don’t know you or why you’re here, but I don’t want you in my apartment. I’m sorry and I hope you’re not offended, but I’m . . .talking to a cloak like it can actually respond. . .” A tired huff pushes past their lips and they run a hand down their face, the huff switching to a tired groan in the end and they flop face down on their bed. “This is stupid. . .” 

“It’s only stupid if you think it is.” 

Reagan can’t help the terrified shout that comes from their core as they practically throw themself out of the bed in attempt to distance themself from the new voice. They hit the floor and somehow manage to tangle themself in the blanket before unwinding themself to see the unexpected guest. The man from last night stands in the doorway of their bedroom, an amused smirk on his lips as he watches Reagan scramble to their feet. Now that it’s daytime, Reagan can see the bits of gray around the man’s temples in his dark hair and the startling blues of his eyes. Not that that assures Reagan at all, but they’re pretty happy they’ll have a good description of the thief that took their camera. 

Speaking of that. . . 

“You dick head!” Reagan shouts, a wave of anger taking over the fear they just felt. The smirk widens a fraction of an inch on the man’s face and it only helps fuel Reagan’s temper. “What are you doing in my apartment? And gimme back my camera!”

“Do you really want to yell at a man who you just realized was in your house?” the man asks, bringing back a hint of the fear Reagan felt a moment ago. “It doesn’t seem very bright to me.”

The kid in front of Stephen isn’t actually a kid at all now that he can see better. Young, looking and sounding, but not a kid. Early twenties at most, with dark purple dyed hair that is mostly shaved around the right ear and dark brown eyes. Basically, if Stephen hadn’t felt the magical energy from last night, he’s sure he never would have noticed this kid on the street. He knows that hoping Mordo wouldn’t notice either is a long shot, but he also knows the magical energy is too strong not to.

“Shut up,” Reagan counters, tightening a fist at their side to prevent their hands from shaking. Reagan finds themself proud of their incredibly short temper. “What are you doing here?” 

The amusement on the man’s face is matched with the amusement that comes with the chuckle that pushes from his lips. “Very scary coming from a kid in a nightgown,” he says, motioning to the light green, oversized T-shirt the kid wears as pajamas. 

“My statement stands,” Reagan grumbles. “What are you doing in my apartment?” 

“I want to talk to you,” he says matter-of-factly, folding his arms over his chest. “When you’re dressed of course.” 

Reagan mimics the man’s action of folding his arms over his chest, trying to hold themself as if they’re the one in charge. “I’m good like this,” they say, already knowing that they’re going to go back to sleep and pretend it was a dream as soon as the man leaves. “Unless you want to leave and come back later. Or you could not come back at all Mister. . .” 

“Doctor,” the man says, his tone letting Reagan that he’s correcting them and not giving them a name. 

“Mister Doctor,” Reagan says, trying to hide the smile they feel working when his face flashes in annoyance. “Weird name but fine. What do you want Mister Doctor?”

“My name is Doctor Stephen Strange,” Strange corrects firmly. “Why does everyone do that?” 

“Whatever, Mister Doctor,” Reagan continues, smirking smugly at the eye roll Stephen gives as a response. “What do you want?”

Stephen takes a moment to gather his annoyance and he exhales heavily to steady himself. “I have reason to believe that your life is in danger,” he starts bluntly, watching the smug look fall from the kid’s face as fast as it formed. “I’m here to offer you a way to stay safe.”

Reagan blinks a few times to process the statement before frowning in distaste. “That’s a lovely statement coming from someone who broke into my house,” they fire back, trying to hide the fact that Stephen managed to shake them. “Somehow that feels so much more believable. How did you find out where I live anyway?” 

“I didn’t break in,” Stephen counters. “I created a portal and I walked in. There was no breaking involved. And I used the residual DNA left on your camera to track you.” 

Reagan’s eyebrows pull together in questioning annoyance, their head shifting forward slightly as if prompting him to continue. “And I found your house by talking to the ghosts in the area,” they respond sarcastically. “I got in by rearranging my molecular make up and phasing through the door.” They unwrap an arm from themself and motion toward Stephen, whose face looks just as done as they feel themself. “That’s how crazy you sound right now, you know that right? Like, that sounds like complete bullshit.” 

Stephen takes a deep breath to calm his temper and he lifts his hand, causing the kid in front of him to tense and take a defensive step backward. Magic tingles in his fingertips and the borrowed camera forms in the palm of his hand, prompting the kid’s eyes to widen in horrified wonder as he extends the device toward them. “Crazy, right?” The kid continuously looks between him and the camera and Stephen moves gestures the camera forward. “You wanted it back, right?” he asks skeptically. “Here.”

Reagan frowns cautiously, but does move forward, their body angled sideways as if ready to bolt on a moment’s notice. Once they get within reach, their arm moves and their hand wraps around the camera, almost surprised to find that it is, in fact, their camera. They slowly lift the camera from Stephen’s hand and examine it for damage as soon as they get it back. 

“I took the SD card, of course,” Stephen says as he watches the examination. The kid’s face shifts to shock and their mouth falls open, causing Stephen to smirk proudly as their head snaps to him. “You had stuff on their that I can’t have getting out.” 

“That SD card came standard with the camera!” they exclaim, their tone a mixture of mourning an anger. “It’s going to cost a fortune to replace! Plus I had weeks of unused material on there!” 

“I’ll give it back after I get the footage off of it,” Stephen assures. “You understand, right?”

Reagan rolls their eyes and turns, moving toward the bed and sitting the camera in the middle. “I make those videos for a living you know,” they mumble. “I make money from Youtube. We’re pretty popular, hence the money thing.” Their grumbling dies out as the rest of Stephen’s statement registers in their head. “What did you mean by my life is in danger?” they asks, turning back to Stephen and folding their arms back over their chest. “That wasn’t a very nice conversation start, Mister Doctor.”

Stephen purses his lips together in tight annoyance at the name that doesn’t go away. “I already told you my name,” he reminds bitterly. “And I meant what I said exactly as I said it. Your life could be in danger.” The kid raises a hesitantly skeptical eyebrow. “As you can probably tell, I am a master of the mystic arts. Magic, if you will. Last night, I felt that you, too, hold a lot of untapped magical potential within you. Someone out there is attacking and often killing people who use magic, or even just have an unusually high amount of magical energy, such as yourself.” The kid visibly stiffens at the thought of bodily harm and their breath hitches, letting Stephen know he struck a chord. “I can train you to harness that energy and use it to protect yourself against that.” 

“How about you just take the magic out of me so I don’t have to worry about that?” Reagan asks. “That’s an option, right?” 

  
“If you wanna die, yes,” Stephen responds with a casual shrug. “Taking all your magic out would mean taking your life force since they’re tied together.” 

Reagan purses their lips thoughtfully and they nod slowly. “I don’t like that option,” they say. “What was the first one?”

“I could train you to use your magic to defend yourself against whoever is coming after magic users,” Stephen repeats. “The easiest and only option you have, really.”

“And-” A sharp knock on the window causes Reagan to yelp and jump forward an away from the source. They will admit, they completely forgot about the cloak once Stephen came into the room. 

“Can you open the window?” Stephen asks in a tone that can arguably be considered annoyance. “It’s going to break the window if you don’t.” 

“If it breaks the window, you’re paying for it,” Reagan grumbles, walking to the window and flicking the lock to open it. “Here.” The cloak floats in through the window and brushes them with an audible whoosh, Reagan watching as it makes its way to Stephen and secures itself on his shoulders. 

“Thanks,” Stephen says as the cloak settles itself in place.

“Not a problem, Mister Doctor,” Reagan says, turning and sitting down on the bed facing Stephen. 

Stephen’s face falls in annoyance and Reagan breaks into an ‘innocent’ grin. “I told you,” he starts stiffly, “my name is Doctor Stephen Strange.” 

  
“Sorry Mister Doctor Stephen Strange,” Reagan says, holding their hands up innocently. 

Stephen levels a flat look on the kid. “Maybe I should just let you die.”

Reagan grins again. “Go for it.” 

“Fine,” Stephen responds, turning and lifting both hands and circling one to open a portal. “Have it your way.”

Reagan watches as the yellow-orange circle appears and opens in their hallway, the other side leading to the same room they both were in last night. Stephen steps through the portal and Reagan waves when he turns and closes it again. Deciding that they are indeed fully awake now, Reagan exhales to steady their heart since they didn’t even realize it was racing and starts forward to the bathroom. They relieve themself quickly and wash their hands, drying them on the towel before opening the mirror cabinet and pulling out their medication bottle. They make a mental note to have it refilled later as they drop one into their hand and downs it with some water from the sink. 

  
There’s a vague hiss and Reagan glances up in the mirror while they continue to suck water from the faucet. Another portal appears in their bedroom door frame and it closes after a second, revealing Stephen’s back as he enters the room. Reagan makes another mental note to start peeing with the door shut since they have people who can just appear in their house whenever they want.    


“I can’t just let you-” Stephen starts, stopping in confusion once he sees the empty room. “Kid?” 

Reagan turns off the water and straightens. “Behind you,” they answer, wiping their mouth with the back of their hand as they watch Stephen whirl around in the mirror. “Aw. . .you do care,” they coo through a sarcastic Cheshire cat grin. “That’s sweet.”

Stephen rolls his eyes and chews on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from snapping out a response. “What’s your name, kid?” 

Reagan turns and leans their butt against the counter. “First of all, Mister Doctor,” they start, earning another dramatic eye roll from Stephen in response. “I am most definitely not a kid.” 

“Stop calling me that.”

“Stop calling me kid.”

“I don’t know your name.”

“Usually people don’t give out their names to strange men who stole their camera one night then turn up at their house the next day.” Reagan notes, lifting a finger and motioning to Stephen with it. “That’s how stalkers and death happens.” 

Stephen has to chew the inside of his cheek to keep himself from spitting a response. “I can assure you, I am not a stalker,” he starts, his annoyance growing when he sees a feign skeptical look form on Reagan’s face. “Nor am I the one trying to kill you. I’m just a doctor who thinks that he should know the name of his future student.” 

The deviousness on Reagan’s face deepens and they point a finger at him. “That’s exactly what a stalker would say,” they offer, their mock serious tone causing Stephen to roll his eyes. “Look, I got stuff to do, so can you leave?” 

There’s a split second of silence as Reagan leaves the bathroom before Stephen narrows his eyes in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?” he asks, following Reagan as they move to the kitchen. “Did you not hear me say that your life is in danger?” 

“I heard it,” Reagan confirms, moving to the fridge and pulling the door open. “I just don’t really believe it.” 

The confusion on Stephen’s face deepens as he stops in the kitchen doorway, watching the kid rifle through the fridge for a moment before removing a cup of yogurt and a jug of orange juice. “Don’t believe-” he starts, watching the kid kick the door closed and raise an eyebrow at him. “How do you not believe me!? I have an enchanted flying cloak. I opened a portal in your house twice-”

“Which is very creepy by the way,” Reagan interrupts as they set the items they removed from the fridge on the counter. “I pee with the door open sometimes so that needs to stop.” 

“I didn’t wanna hear that,” Stephen says through a huff. “You shouldn’t do that, that’s weird.”

Reagan scoffs offendedly and they roll their eyes. “Like opening two portals into someone else’s apartment isn’t?” they snap in response. “Look, I believe your magic shit is legit-” 

“It isn’t shit,” Stephen interrupts this time. “It’s a complicated balance of energy and focus-” 

“-but I don’t have it,” Reagan continues over Stephen’s interruption. “Even if I do, I don’t care enough to hone it. I’m not interested in learning about. . .what’d you just call it? Complicated balance of universe and mental focus?”

“Energy and focus,” Stephen corrects tiredly. 

“That. So since I don’t care enough to focus my energy or whatever, I’m not in danger.” 

“Look kid-”

“Not my name.”

“That’s not how this works,” Stephen insists, his temper rising as he watches the kid move around the kitchen and grab a glass from the cabinet. “This person, whoever they are, is targeting magic users and people with abnormally high levels of magical energy. You fall under one of those categories. Since you are untrained, it means you can be killed easier. As Sorcerer Supreme of this dimension, it’s my job-”

“Do you want some orange juice?” Reagan interrupts, motioning to Stephen with a second glass. “It’s fresh. . .ish?” 

Stephen’s jaw hangs open at the most recent interruption and huffs a tired sigh, letting his arm - which he was apparently gesturing in his annoyance - drop back to his side in defeat. “Yeah,” he huffs. “Why not.”   
Reagan smiles and nods in agreement, setting both glasses down and pouring a healthy amount of juice into both. They hand one over to Stephen, who accepts it with a toast-like gesture and a nod. Reagan smiles and does the same. The duo take a moment to sip their orange juice in silence. Once Stephen has about half of his juice gone, he exhales slowly and lowers his glass.

“I know you say you don’t care,” he starts, causing the kid to give half an eye roll in response, “but I truly believe your life is in danger as long as you remain defenseless.” 

The seriousness in his tone causes Reagan to pause in the middle of their sip of juice and examine him, searching his face for any sign of deceit. The lack thereof makes them wish their anxiety medicine would work faster. “I do care,” they admit quietly around the lip of their cup. “I just. . .” The loss of words frustrates them more than the conversation they’re trying to have and a tired groan pushes from his chest. “I hate not knowing,” they try. “It scares me. I knew that the world was weird and all, but now there’s a magic man in my room and he stole my camera last night. I’m pretty new to the whole thing.”

Stephen knows what that feels like. When he first got to Kamr-Taj and met the Ancient One, he was thrown through a loop too. Yeah, he’s heard of everything going on like this kid did, but being thrown in head first was a surprise. He wasn’t exactly ready for the fighting that came after, so he definitely knows what the kid feels. At least he had some training before he was told he had to fight. 

“I get it,” Stephen says, deciding to go about it in the same manner he would if he were telling a patient bad news. Quick, clinical, and with options at the end. “I do. But your life's in danger whether you’re ready for it or not. I’m sorry that you don’t have many options here, but life isn’t fair that way sometimes. Either you learn to protect yourself, or you die.” 

Reagan cracks a sarcastic smile as they lift their glass to their lips again. “Is that how you normally talk to people?” they asks, their voice holding less bite than they were hoping. “That’s a great way to make friends.” Stephen opens his mouth to respond and Reagan continues before he can. “Look, this is a lot to wrap my head around,” the go on, setting their cup aside and lifting their hands up to grab their hair. “Can I at least have a few hours to make a decision? Or, since you seem to think I’m going to die immediately, at least have a few more hours of normalcy?” 

There’s a hesitant plea in the kid’s eyes that makes Stephen pause, mostly because it’s not the normal kind of hesitance that he’s seen in people before. This is a rarer type of hesitance that only comes from people with anxiety. The worst case scenario plotting, ‘I’m already planning my death,’ everything is already wrong thing. He’s dealt with people like this, but his personality made it so that it usually ended with the patient having an attack. Hopefully he’s grown enough so that situation won’t come up, but he does know he needs to be careful either way. 

“Alright,” he agrees gently. “You can have a day.” 

The relief is instant and Reagan smiles. “Thanks,” they accept. “I’ll see you later.” 

“Yes,” Stephen says, already turning to form another portal. “I’ll see you later.”   
“Hey!” Reagan calls as the portal opens, causing Stephen to stop just before his foot crosses over. “Will I be able to do that after training?” 

Hesitant excitement. That’s a good sign. “Yes,” Stephen informs as he steps backwards through the portal into his parlor. “If all goes well, you should be able to use the sling ring and open portals.” 

“Anywhere?” 

“Within some conditions, yes.” 

Reagan’s eyes light up. “And I’ll be able to just turn up in your house like you do mine?” 

Stephen smiles smugly. “I’m Sorcerer Supreme,” he reminds proudly. “You can only enter my domain via portal if I allow you to.” Before the kid has a chance to respond, Stephen winks and closes the portal, barely hearing the startled sound he gets as a response. This may be more fun than he thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the interest guys! I appreciate it!


	3. Day Trip

“And you’re sure you weren’t just having a dream when this happened?” Dean asks, watching as Reagan lifts their second Bloody Mary and takes a deep drink. “Like, that stuff actually happened?” 

“I couldn’t make this up if I tried,” Reagan assures once the last of their drink is finished. “I would show you the proof, but he stole my SD card from my camera.” 

“His name was Mister Doctor?” Andy adds, trying to hide the nervous smile working on his face. 

“No, I made that one up,” Reagan informs, setting their empty glass down and waving the waiter down for another one. “He said his name was Stephen Strange.” 

Andy shakes his head to send the waiter away before Reagan can order another drink. “I’ve heard of that guy,” he informs as Reagan frowns. “He flipped his car off a cliff a few years ago cause he was driving too fast.” 

Dean nudges a cup of water closer to Reagan’s reach. “I heard he fucked his hands up really bad,” she goes on, “and I don’t think it’s healthy to be drinking this early in the day.” 

Reagan frowns again and grabs the offered water glass from the table. “I’ve had a long day,” they remind. “You try waking up to a weird guy standing in your bedroom and you tell me how you feel afterward.” They take a long drink and down almost the whole glass in one go, huffing heavily after they finish and resting their chin on the table.”I didn’t even get a good night sleep after my camera was stolen. My poor baby. Violated. SD card. Stolen.” A quiet sniffle. “My baby.” 

Andy laughs lightly and slaps Reagan’s back a couple times. “Buck up, Ray,” he says, his hand being slapped away by Reagan’s. “I’m sure this Mister Doctor guy is going to give it back like he said he would.”

Reagan bolts up to sit up straight once again. “That guy looked ancient!” they shout, causing Dean to laugh and Andy to try and shush them. “I’m surprised he even knew what a camera was and what he was taking!” 

“Stephen Strange isn’t that old,” Andy explains, still trying to calm his friend as he speaks. “So yes he would know what a camera does and what they do. You need to be quiet.” 

“You need to eat me! I’ve been traumatized!” 

Dean laughs louder and shoves the glass of water back into Reagan’s hand. “If you have time to talk, you have time to drink,” she instructs happily. “It’s too early for you to be drunk.” 

“I’m not drunk,” Reagan argues irritably. “I’m angry. Stupid Mister Doctor.” 

“Yeah, you drink too much to be wasted off of two Bloody Marys,” Dean agrees, lifting Reagan’s water glass to their lips since they won’t. “But we didn’t come here to discuss Reagan’s drinking problem. We came here because Lenny found us a new spot.” 

“Since Reagan got the SD card stolen, we can’t go tonight,” Andy reminds. “No SD card means nothing we record will be saved.” 

Reagan plants their hands on the table and rises, startling both Andy and Dean and causing them to look up. “I’m going to get my SD card,” they announce proudly, swaying slightly from the alcohol in their system. “That dick face shithead isn’t going to cost me money if I can help it.” They slide out of the booth they sit in and pull a crumbled pill from the pocket of their sweatpants, dropping it on the table and making their way to the exit. “A whole month’s worth of footage is on that card and I’ll be damned if he fucks up and erases everything. Rent is due soon. . .”

Dean is on her feet next, reaching out and catching Reagan’s hand before they could get too far. “Whoa, there, cow. . .rider?” she tries, making sure to remember Reagan’s agenerness. “You said this dude threatened you, right?” 

“Not really,” Reagan corrects. “He just said my life was in danger and he said he was going to teach me how to keep myself alive. Now let go. I have to get to him before he starts deleting things!” 

Reagan shakes their friend’s hand off and starts for the door, ignoring their friends’ calls for them to stop. They pick up the pace and mix in with the crowd leading to the. . .what did he call it? Sanitorium? Sure. 

One twenty minute walk later, Reagan bangs loudly on the door of the building they visited the night before. “Hey! Mister Doctor!” they call, their temper flaring again at the lack of response they’re getting. “Open up! I need my-”

The door opens and Reagan nearly falls inside at the suddenness of it, only catching themself when they plant a foot in front of them. They straighten quickly and glare at the now open doorway. “Where the hell is my- you’re not Mister Doctor.” 

“You’re that kid from last night,” Wong says looking said kid over with an almost judgemental eye. “Stephen said you were annoying. I was hoping he meant the quiet annoying.”

Reagan rolls their eyes and folds their arms over their chest. “I need to see Stephen,” they say. “He has something of mine.”

“He told me about that, too,” Wong responds flatly. “You recorded something you shouldn’t have.” 

“No one told me about the rules of magic!” Reagan defends, gesturing toward the building in annoyance. “I didn’t know recording stuff was illegal!” 

“Recording stuff isn’t illegal,” Wong  clarifies, “but normal people aren’t supposed to know about the magical realm. It’s highly secretive.” 

Reagan hesitates to speak again, but clears their throat to do so anyway. “Well all he had to do was say so,” they grumble. “He’s committed a crime now, so I gotta fight him.” 

Wong snorts in amusement but his face betrays nothing. “I would love to see you try to take on the Sorcerer Supreme,” he says in the same flat tone as before. “I would actually pay money for that.” 

Reagan’s temper flares at the doubt in his tone and they clench their fists at their sides. “Then move over and start counting your cash,” they challenge, “because I’m about to kick your Sorcerer Supreme’s ass.”

“Oh really?” 

Reagan can’t help the yelp that pushes from their core as they whirl around on a heel to see the new voice that comes up behind them. Stephen strange stands on the staircase behind Reagan, a plastic shopping bag in his hand and an amused smirk on his lips. “I go out for ten minutes and I come back to a threat by a child?” he continues. “That’s kind of rude.” 

The temper that had died out from shock rekindles at the smirk on Stephen’s face, almost doubly so as they realize he’s dressed in a normal set of jeans and a T-shirt. They don’t know why, but it does. They don’t question it. “Rude is when your camera and SD card are stolen from some weirdo in a cloak!” they counter loudly, only now remembering that they were trying to avoid this place as best they could. “I need it back,” they go on, pushing the thoughts away to focus on the mission. “I’ll erase the footage myself so you don’t mess anything up, but I have a job that relies on my camera and it won’t work without the card.” 

“I already erased it,” Stephen informs, holding up his hand and pinching the SD card from thin air. “I left everything else on the camera as it was, but I watched a few of them. You and your friends are crazy, you know that right?” 

Reagan steps forward and grabs the card from Stephen’s hand, a mild feeling of annoyance at the fact they got surprised when the card turns out to be real. “Stop pulling things out of the air,” they order, stepping aside as Stephen steps forward to enter his house. “It’s weird.” 

“Everything is weird, kid,” the doctor counters as he steps past Wong and goes inside. “You might as well come inside while you’re here. Get some water so you don’t have as much of a hangover as you will later.”    
Reagan responds with a scoff and shoves the card and their hands in their sweatpants pockets. “I’m not even drunk,” they say. “And why-” 

The rest of their statement is lost when they realize they’re standing in the middle of a kitchen with a glass of water in their hand. “But you’ve been drinking,” Stephen replies, walking away from a cabinet and lightly grabbing Reagan’s wrist. “It’s a bit early for that, don’t you think?” Two pills are dropped in Reagan’s palm before Stephen lets go, using his knuckle to guide the hand up to Reagan’s mouth. “Take the pills. Drink the water. Then you can go.” 

Deciding that just doing what they’re told is easier than arguing and feeling a stress headache working at the back of their head pulls a snort from Reagan’s throat, but they do as told. “And you wonder why I drink,” Reagan grumbles after draining half the glass and lowering it from his mouth. “In any case, I’m done. How did you know I’ve been drinking anyway?” 

“I can smell it. AndI still don’t know your name,” Stephen points out, clearly ignoring the kid’s complaints. “It’s kind of weird to keep referring to you as kid. And finish all the water. I don’t trust your judgment.” 

Still trying to push their headache away, Reagan finishes the last of water and sets the cup on the counter. “Reagan,” they inform, failing to notice the eyebrow Stephen raises as response. “I’m agender They/them pronouns only.” 

“Are you sure you’re not drunk?” Stephen asks, motioning to Reagan in a flippant gesture. “That was the first time you’ve answered me straight about that since we’ve met.” 

Reagan lifts a finger to silence him. “Let’s not start off by getting confused on the first day,” they start. “I don’t want anything about me being called straight. I’m definitely not straight, so I don’t want straight to get associated with me. Alright?” 

It takes a moment for Stephen to process the statement, spoken so confidently for something so unexpected, but he cracks a content grin when it settles properly. “That is completely understandable,” he says, trying to clear his throat to keep himself from laughing. “I’m sorry.” 

This time, Reagan is the one that raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know if I believe you,” they reply skeptically. “I don’t work with people who don’t respect my being bi.” 

“It would be hard to not respect bi-ness considering I’m bi myself,” Stephen counters, his tone friendly through his smile. 

A new fire lights under Reagan’s eyes and they break into a similar grin Stephen wears. “You’re bi!?” they exclaim excitedly. “That’s so cool!” 

Stephen shrugs. “It’s not a big deal,” he says almost dismissively. “I don’t make a big deal about it, but yeah. I’m bisexual.” 

At that, Reagan nods and straightens their back a bit, forcing the smile off their face and mimicking Stephen’s relaxed shrug. “Yeah, no, I get it,” they say, though the excited energy they can’t contain causes Stephen to snort again. “It’s not a big deal. You got it. It’s cool. We’re cool.”    
“Are we?” Stephen asks. “Cause you’re buzzing right now.” 

“I just haven’t met a lot of people willing to work with LGBT people before,” they explain, some of the energy dying at the grimness of their statement. “Even less so that are actually LGBT themselves. So yes, I’m a bit excited and it is really cool.” 

He hates how true the statement is, but he appreciates how open Reagan is being with him now. However, he doesn’t know if it’s just the alcohol in their system or something else. Either way, Stephen appreciates it. Maybe he- 

“I gotta leave,” Reagan interrupts before his train of thought could go too far. “Now that I have my card back, I have a few things to edit and get online before tonight.” 

Stephen raises an eyebrow. “You’re going to break into another building tonight?” he asks suspiciously. “Really?” 

“It’s my job,” Reagan reminds. “Besides, archaeologists and other scientists do it all the time. How long does something have to be abandoned or dead before it’s archeology anyway?” 

“Don’t tell me that that’s your way of telling me you’re also grave robbers.” 

Reagan rolls their eyes. “Ha ha,” they deadpan, their annoyance flickering back to life at the smirk Stephen flashes them. “Very funny. But seriously, I gotta get going. My friends are probably worried since I did leave without explanation.” 

“And you’re drunk.”   
“I am not drunk. I have been drinking though.” 

“That’s still concerning.” 

Another eye roll. “Whatever,” Reagan says, turning and starting toward the kitchen exit. “I’m out.” 

Stephen smirks smugly and folds his arms over his chest. “Do you know where you’re going?” he asks, causing Reagan to roll their eyes and continue their travel. “You can’t take any pictures on your way out. If you get lost, I’m not helping you.” 

“Sounds about right,” Reagan agrees as they glance around the area and settles on going right. “I’ll see you later, Mister Doctor.” 

Stephen rolls his eyes this time and follows Reagan out the door, stopping in the doorway and leaning over to watch them walk. “You’re going the wrong way,” he informs, managing to stop Reagan and get them to turn around. “Down that hall, stairway’s on the right, straight out the door.” 

“I knew that,” Reagan says, following the directions and locking eyes with Stephen as they pass him. “I was just looking around. Everything is different in daylight.” 

“I’ll give you a tour when you start training,” Stephen assures. “For now, get a hold on that day drinking.” In an action Stephen guesses is in character for Reagan, they lift their hand flips an almost eloquent middle finger to him over their shoulder. Stephen would get offended if it were anyone else, but he can see that this is probably how their relationship is going to be. There would be no point. “I could destroy your entire soul and you want to flip me off? Smart.” Stephen says sarcastically, causing Reagan to snort. 

“But you won’t,” they remind, letting their arm drop back to their side as they find the staircase and make the turn. “You wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of trying save me if you’re just want to kill me yourself. Otherwise you would have just done it when I broke into your house last night.” 

The fact that it’s a decent point brings Stephen to a lack of response. So he sticks with a roll of the eyes and a “brat” and calls it good. Reagan’s footsteps echo thanks to the wood floors in the Sanctum and Stephen hears the door open and close as they leave.

He feels Wong come up before he speaks. “You’re becoming too lenient and you’re not even training h-”

“Them,” Stephen corrects before the word can even hit the air. “Reagan uses gender non-specific pronouns. They and them only.” 

“-them,” Wong continues, a deep set frown on his face. “You should not have given them the day off. You’re the one who wanted to keep them safe and you haven’t done anything yet.” 

“They need time to process everything,” Stephen explains. “They don’t really see a choice in the matter of learning magic, and they just learned about the existence of said magic. They asked for time to process everything, I’ll give it to them.” 

Wong rolls his eyes and exhales slowly. “Fine,” he huffs tiredly. “Training starts tomorrow.” 

“That was the deal.” 

Wong nods in acceptance and folds his arms over his chest. “Good,” he says. “Maybe they’ll catch on faster than you did.” 

Stephen rolls his eyes. “That was my time to process,” he defends, turning and heading back into the kitchen. “Besides, if they don’t, I’ll just drop them on a mountain and have them get back on their own. Like the Ancient One did with me.” 

“I don’t think they’ll like that.” 

“Doesn’t matter considering they already don’t like me.” 

#####

Another magic user in New York. Mordo was sure that only Stephen Strange and Jonathan were the only two, but it seems he was wrong. He doesn’t understand how he missed it the first time, but he won’t make the mistake again. He feels the pull, untapped, unfocused. Not yet trained in the ways of the mystic arts. 

An easy target.    


Mordo would rather end their sour existence now before it has a chance to become anymore corrupt. He supposes he’ll be taking another trip to New York to pay them a visit. A courtesy call of sort. Maybe he can steer them away from sinking into the muck that is magic. 

If not, he’ll just have to nip it in the bud and kill them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! Keep it up!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for checking this story out! Please leave Kudos and Comments if you like it!
> 
> P.S. I was referencing the vines of the dude saying wow at that party with the vape girl and the avocado kid vine.


End file.
